Year of the Monkey
by Book 'em Again
Summary: The heroes ring in the Chinese New Year with a little monkey business of their own.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story owes its existence to several different inspirations. First of all, the series mentions a caper where the heroes convinced Klink that LeBeau was part Chinese so that they could hold a Chinese New Year Party. Secondly, this story is a response to "The Land of the Rising Hun" Challenge from the forums to introduce characters of Asian descent into Stalag Thirteen. Thirdly, I had a very interesting conversation with a total stranger while I was watching fireworks last 4th of July about a weapon the Japanese developed in WWII that was too interesting not to use. I had a lot of fun weaving these threads together and I hope that you will enjoy reading the result.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: Monkeying Around<strong>

There were days that Carter felt bad for Schultz. Today, however, was not one of them. It was the guard's own fault for barging into the barracks just as they were about to plug in the coffee pot. Besides, he was practically drooling over the chocolate bar Colonel Hogan was waving around.

"Colonel Hogan, I know nothing. I did not even know that General Burkhalter was coming until his car showed up in camp."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," Schultz promised.

"Guess you don't want this," Hogan said as he nonchalantly tossed the chocolate into the air. While Schultz's eyes followed the precious candy in its flight, Kinch snuck into the officer's quarters. The candy came to Carter who caught the bar easily. Smiling, he got into the game. "Catch it if you can," he teased before throwing it over the guard's head to Newkirk.

Newkirk let Schultz come close before tossing it to Olsen who threw it to Addison who passed it onto LeBeau before Colonel Hogan gestured that he wanted it back.

Out of breath and with no reward to show for his efforts, Schultz shifted to begging. "Colonel Hogan, I'm starving. Can't you just throw the chocolate to me? I'm too fat to be jumping around."

Carter gave the guard a friendly sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Come on, Schultz. Don't tell me you've never played monkey in the middle."

"Carter, I am too old to play children's games.

"A man like you, with five kids," LeBeau said. "You're never too old to play children's games."

"My children are not here and you're up to something. Besides, monkey games sounds a lot like monkey business. And I want to know _nothing_ about any monkey business going on in this camp."

"Alright," Hogan conceded as he waved the chocolate under the guard's nose. "No more games. Just tell us what Burkhalter said when he got out of the car."

With a sigh, Schultz finally gave in. "The General did not speak to me, though he was very upset to see trash lying on the ground. He yelled at Gruber and said that if the camp wasn't spotless in two days, Gruber would be sent to the Russian front. I, seeing that it was best to stay out of the way of angry officers, came here."

Smiling, Hogan handed over the chocolate. "See that wasn't so hard. All you had to do was say we're expecting important visitors in two days."

"Visitors? Who said anything about visitors?"

"You did, Schultzie," Newkirk said as he draped his arm over the guard's shoulders and began to steer the guard toward the door.

Carter quickly stepped up and pushed from the other side. "Yeah, thanks a lot for the information. You know, you might want to go see to the guards. We'd hate to lose you over a few dirty uniforms." Then after shoving Schultz out the door, Carter quickly joined the others around the coffee pot.

"What'd we miss?" Hogan asked.

Kinch rolled his eyes. "The usual groveling and Burkhalter yelling at Klink to shut up."

"Guess we should be thankful Schultz showed up," LeBeau joked.

Kinch held out a hand for silence as Burkhalter spoke again. _"The cleanliness of this camp is deplorable."_

"_Yes, deplorable," _Klink agreed, _"But, General, if I may…"_

"_You may not."_

"_I may not."_

"_When I return, this camp better be spotless. It is important that we make a good impression on our allies."_

"_Of course, Herr General."_

"_In two days, Major Jir__ō__ Saito of the Imperial Army of Japan…"_

"_Japan!" _Klink gasped.

"Japan!" Carter echoed.

LeBeau whistled and Hogan leaned in closer to the pot as his face grew more thoughtful.

"_That's what I said, Klink!" _

"_I am honored, sir, to …._

"_Shut up and let me finish."_

"_Yes, sir. Shutting up, sir."_

"_As I said, in two days Major Saito and several members of his staff will be traveling here for a top secret meeting with one of our most respected scientists, Dr. Johan Reiter."_

Carter exchanged a worried glance with LeBeau. He didn't like the sound of that meeting. Japan and Germany caused enough trouble doing their own things. He didn't want to see what they would achieve working together.

"_General, I'm honored to host such distinguished visitors. But Stalag Thirteen is not equipped to provide for so many guests…"_

"_You will host Dr. Reiter and his assistants in the guest hut. Major Saito and his men will take your quarters."_

"_My quarters! But, sir, where will I sleep?"_

"_You will sleep on Russian Front if everything isn't ready in time!"_

Klink whimpered and Burkhalter gave several more threats before storming out of the office.

Newkirk whistled as Kinch unplugged the pot. "Sounds like we're getting a big fish, sir."

"Right," Kinch agreed. "And Reiter is a scientist. You think they're coming to work on a new weapon?"

"It could be a new bomb or a missile. Or a specialty tank or a new type of plane. But whatever it is, it can't be good," Carter said.

"Well, we aren't going to wait to find out," Hogan declared. "Kinch, get on the radio and see what London knows about our visitors." Then changing gears, he ordered, "Newkirk, Carter, get some sleep if you can. I need you ready to go out tonight. There's going to be a bombing raid on a factory north of Dusseldorf. Depending on how this meeting goes, we may need a courier."

* * *

><p>Newkirk's muscles were beginning to stiffen from standing out in the cold for so long. The bombers had been late, and the wind had a cold bite to it this evening. He longed for a smoke to help him break the tension, but he had left his pack back at camp.<p>

Carter, however, was a bundle of energy beside him as he watched the explosions. "Look at that one! Boom, what a beauty! They sure got the factory good, didn't they?"

The Englishman ignored his friend's enthusiasm as he kept a careful watch on the fight above. The Krauts had finally managed to rouse their fighters and they were zeroing in on one of the bombers. He held his breath, but luck did not continue to remain on their side as the next explosion brought no exclamation of joy from his friend. Newkirk counted five parachutes in the air which meant that the entire crew had gotten out in time. However, only one parachute – the last one – looked like it was going to land close enough for them to pull off a rescue.

Silently, the two POWs moved as one in the direction of the final parachute. They would have to be careful. It wouldn't be long before the woods were filled with Krauts.

Ten minutes later they found the downed flyer moving slowly through the brush ahead. "Psst," Newkirk called out.

The solider spun around toward the sound.

"Whoa!" Carter gasped. "You're Japanese!"

Newkirk immediately tensed. The man's uniform was that of a Yankee officer, but his face looked Japanese. At least, it looked close to what he had seen in the cinema.

The officer sighed as he gestured at his uniform. "I'm an American. And my family emigrated from China, not Japan."

"Ah, China," Carter said.

Newkirk recognized that tone in his friend's voice. It was the same tone he used before playing twenty questions with prisoners whom they suspected of being moles back in camp. How Carter could fool half of Germany into thinking that he was a German general, but fail to hide his suspicions in front of people who were supposed to be their Allies, the Englishman would never know. But Carter's suspicions weren't completely off base; Newkirk didn't know how to tell the difference between a Japanese and a Chinese person either. However, they were under orders to bring downed flyers back to camp and this man had clearly been shot down. So he was going to have to take charge before Carter's well-intended suspicions drove the officer away.

Newkirk extended his hand. "Well meet, sir. I'm Newkirk and this is Carter. We were sent to get you to safety."

The officer took it. "Lieutenant Arthur Kong. And you're clearly British."

"Guilty as charged, sir."

"What about my men?"

"Your parachute is the only one that landed close enough for us to pick up, sir," Carter explained. The Germans respond quick."

"Then we should get moving."

Newkirk and Carter led the way back to camp. Their charge was quiet, but Carter kept looking back at him in a way that told Newkirk that his friend's suspicions hadn't eased.

"How do we know that he is really Chinese?" Carter whispered. "All we have is his word. He could be a Japanese solider pretending to be a Chinese-American soldier. I can't tell the difference, can you? Japan would count on us not being able to tell the difference. He could be a spy. He could have stolen a uniform and now is planning to expose the whole operation. I don't know if we should be taking him to camp."

There were times that Carter was the most trusting man in the camp, but when his suspicious were raised, he had the annoying tendency to refuse to back down until they were proven wrong. On one hand, it was touching. It showed the depth of care Carter felt toward the men in camp.

However, at this particular moment, it was not helping matters at all.

"Carter," Newkirk whispered back, "he's a bloody officer. We should be thankful he's following us." Left unspoken, he thought, _the Gov'nor will figure this out._

* * *

><p>The downside of being in communications, Kinch decided, was that you to were continually forced to deliver difficult news. However, he had learned in working with Hogan that the best thing to do was deliver it quickly and calmly, trusting that the officer would come up with a plan. So after ensuring that the door was shut, he gave his report. "London recognized Reiter as he is involved in the upper levels of chemical warfare research. Last they heard, he was stationed somewhere in Poland. The Krauts have some top secret project going on out there and they suspect that Reiter knows the details."<p>

Hogan took the news with a simple nod. "Let me guess. They want us to send them a Reiter-shaped package with a bow on top."

"Right. And once they consult with American Intelligence, London suspects they are going to want us to add a second package to their order."

"Figures they'd want to save on shipping," Hogan joked before falling silent.

Kinch couldn't blame him. The news that Reiter was involved in chemical warfare was not good. He had heard the stories from the survivors of the last war. He had heard of the horror and the pain caused by such weapons. War was brutal, but chemical warfare was an entirely different level of brutality. So far, neither side had been willing to resort to that degree of inhumanity. Unfortunately, it looked like that was about to change.

Kinch's thoughts were interrupted by a light knock at the door. Sergeant Greenberg stuck his head into the room and said, "Excuse me, sir. Carter and Newkirk are back."

The two men were waiting in the barracks with the rest of the men when Newkirk helped an American officer, with Lieutenant bars on his shoulders, into the room. Kinch held back a gasp of surprise when the man's face came into view. The officer had ancestry in Asia – Chinese, Japanese or Korean – he was ashamed to admit that he couldn't tell the difference.

While Newkirk gestured for the officer to sit at the table and LeBeau pressed a steaming cup of coffee into his hands, Carter inched over to them. "Colonel," the Technical Sergeant whispered, "he's Chinese. At least, he says he's Chinese."

Kinch frowned; for even though he knew what it felt like to be judged by his ethnicity, he couldn't help but share Carter's concern. How did they know that this man was who he said he was and not an enemy in disguise?

Hogan, however, wasted no time. He stepped forward and introduced himself. "Colonel Robert E. Hogan, 504th. I run this madhouse."

The officer rose and saluted. "Lieutenant Arthur Kong, 381st. I'm just glad your boys found me before Gerry did."

After the Colonel returned the gesture, he held out his hand for the officer to shake, signaling to his men – that unless proven otherwise – that Kong was one of them and he expected him to be treated as such.

When Kong sat back down at Hogan's insistence, he asked, "What happens next, sir?"

Hogan grabbed his own mug of coffee from LeBeau and said, "We hide you until the search dies down. Then we hand you off to the Underground who will help you get to the coast and you'll be back in London before you know it."

Kong whistled. "How about that? You think I'll be home in time for the New Year?"

Kinch exchanged surprised looks with the others. Had Kong bumped his head or just been so busy with the war that he had lost track of time?

Hogan grinned. "We hope that all of us will be home by the New Year. But your trip should take days or a week or two at the most. Certainly not a whole year."

Kong laughed. "No, not your New Year. The Chinese New Year. My ancestors used a different calendar so our New Year usually falls several weeks after yours. Our zodiac tells what animal is associated with each year."

"Animal?" Carter asked.

"Yes, we are currently in the Year of the Goat."

Newkirk looked incredulous. "Why would you name year after a goat? They smell and they eat everything."

"Hey, my uncle raised goats," Carter protested.

"And they taste great in stew," LeBeau stated.

It was a good thing that Kong was a good sport as he patiently explained, "The goat is considered creative, dependable and intelligent. They look soft but possess a great inner strength."

"What animal comes next, sir?" Kinch asked.

Kong shrugged. "I forget."

Hogan had that look as he asked, "Lieutenant, when did you say the New Year was?"

"January 25th."

"That's four days from now," Kinch stated. "Sir, you're not thinking…"

Hogan grinned; he had been thinking exactly what his XO suspected. "Kinch, radio Mama Bear. I want to know which animal is next in the zodiac."

While Kinch confirmed a few details with Kong to make sure that he asked London the right questions, Carter elbowed LeBeau. "Any chance we are entering the year of the bear?'

Kong smiled. "Sorry, no year of the bear, but we do have the year of the horse, rat and snake."

LeBeau shuddered. "Rats. Hope it isn't that one."

A little disappointed he didn't get to hear the rest of his friends' guesses, Kinch quickly descended into the tunnels. In no time, he had the radio up and running.

"Papa Bear calling Mama Bear."

The radio crackled. _"This is Mama Bear."_

"We picked up a new cub this evening. We want to confirm that he is one of ours."

"_Go ahead."_

Kinch rattled off a string of code that gave Kong's name, rank and unit. It didn't take long before he got confirmation that the Lieutenant was legit. That was a relief. They needed his help to pull off this scheme Hogan was hatching and Kinch was beginning to genuinely respect the man. Kong must have faced obstacles similar to his own and yet he had risen to a position of leadership in the USAAF.

But now that Kinch had confirmed Kong's identity, he took a deep breath. He hoped it wouldn't be too hard to convince London that their next request was not a joke. "We also need to know what animal in the Chinese zodiac corresponds to the upcoming Chinese New Year."

It wasn't hard to hear the shock in the operator's voice. _"Say again."_

"We need to know what animal in the Chinese zodiac corresponds to the upcoming Chinese New Year. We are currently in the Year of the Goat. We need to know what animal comes next. Over."

A few moments passed before London replied, _"Papa Bear, Year of the Goat is not in the code book."_

"Negative, Mama Bear. We aren't using code. We just really need the answer."

"_Roger. I'll see what we can do. Out."_

Knowing that it would take some time while London searched for the answer to their question, he returned to the barracks.

"Well?" LeBeau asked as the radioman lowered his bunk.

Kinch smiled. "First things first, Lieutenant, London is pleased to hear that you survived the raid on Dusseldorf and hopes to see you soon."

Relief was immediately evident on most of the prisoners' faces. It seemed that they all had had their doubts concerning the downed flyer's loyalties and Kinch's words confirmed that the officer was legit. However, Kong also recognized the message behind the message and rose to his feet. "You checked me out?"

"Take it easy, Lieutenant," Hogan reassured him. "With our operation, we check everyone out."

Thankfully, Kong seemed to accept that answer and he sat back down and allowed LeBeau to refresh his coffee.

Kinch continued with his report as if the interruption hadn't happened. "However, I believe our other request confused them. They said they're looking into it, but I'm not sure they are going to be much help. I think they're convinced that we've gone mad."

"Completely bonkers," Newkirk agreed. "But considering we are talking about a second New Year, London might not be wrong."

"Other New Years are nothing new," Foster explained. "The first Sunday of Advent is considered the Christian New Year. And that is in late November or early December."

"And the Jewish New Year is in September or October," Greenberg added.

"Imagine if we were able to celebrate all of them!" Carter said enthusiastically. "Klink wouldn't know what to do."

Hogan smiled as he said, "We just need Klink to let us celebrate this one." Then turning to his XO, he added, "Mama Bear will come through."

Kinch took that as a sign to return to his post. Thankfully, he only had to wait about twenty minutes before the radio came to life. "_Papa Bear, this Mama Bear calling."_

"Papa Bear here."

"_According to the Chinese zodiac, we are entering the Year of the Monkey."_

"Thank you, Mama Bear. Papa Bear out."

Kinch climbed up into a silent barracks as every eye was watching him with eager anticipation. He grinned as he announced, "Year of the Monkey."

Carter could hardly contain his excitement. "Year of the Monkey! That's even better than the bear. Schultz is going to go crazy when he finds out."

"When Schultz finds out, he might just volunteer for the Russian Front," Newkirk quipped.

LeBeau, however, saw a major hole in their plan. "One problem, mon Colonel. We have no Chinese prisoners in camp. So, unless we let the guards capture Lieutenant Kong, how are we going to convince Klink to let us celebrate?"

Hogan smirked. "We'll just have to convince him that someone here is part Chinese."

The short, black-haired Frenchman looked around for a likely candidate. "But, sir, who?"

Hogan didn't have to answer because it didn't take LeBeau long to realize that everyone else in the barracks was staring directly at him.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: To anyone who is wondering, yes, Chinese-Americans flew in combat during WWII and I have named Lieutenant Arthur Kong after two of these heroic veterans.<p>

Major Arthur Chin was the first American ace in WWII and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. He served as a US volunteer combat aviator during the Japanese invasion of China from 1937 – 1939.

Second Lieutenant Wah Kau Kong was the first Chinese-American fighter pilot in the US Army Air Corps. He was killed in action when his plane was shot down over Blomberg, Germany.

Source: Wikipedia


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: A Monkey Wrench **

"Zǎo ān!" a way too cheerful Carter called out as he shook LeBeau awake.

LeBeau groaned as his groggy mind tried to interpret the unfamiliar words. It was bad enough he had to listen to English and German instead of the beauty of the French language every day, but the multitude of Chinese phrases that Lieutenant Kong taught the barracks yesterday were beginning to make his head ache. "Carter, it's way too early to be speaking Chinese."

"Sorry, buddy, but Colonel Hogan says you still need to practice. He wants us to be ready for stage one."

Sitting up in his bunk, LeBeau noticed Newkirk bustling around his stove. "Please tell me you made coffee."

Newkirk smiled as he poured a mug and set it on the table. As LeBeau climbed down from his bunk he noticed that everyone else was rising early as well. Even Colonel Hogan was up and dressed with his own mug in his hands.

LeBeau sat down and reached for the cup before suddenly snatching his hand back in disgust. "This isn't coffee!"

"Nope," Newkirk said with a smirk. "It's proper English tea. Since you're Chinese now, you need to start drinking tea."

_Tea_! LeBeau didn't have an issue with tea; he liked the stuff. But how was he going to be able to function without a cup of coffee to wake him up? This whole charade was already beginning to be too much and they hadn't even started yet. "No one is going to believe that I'm Chinese!"

"Why not?" Carter asked. "You all believed me when I said I was Sioux."

"You're not Indian?"

"Oh, I am; my grandfather is a full-blooded Sioux Indian. His father fought with Sitting Bull, remember? But when my grandfather went away for school he met and married a Norwegian girl and they moved to Bullfrog. After my grandmother died, he moved back to the reservation. I used to spend several weeks with him every summer and he taught me be all about Sioux history, how to shoot an arrow and live off the land. He gave me my Sioux name, you know? Anyhow, their daughter – my mom – married my dad and his parents are German and English. My parents' marriage was a big deal, you know, being a mixed marriage and all."

"Huh?" LeBeau asked. Carter wasn't making any sense. Wasn't he an American?

"Well, there was a big to-do over whether they would be married in the German Lutheran Church or the Norwegian Lutheran Church. It's a good thing that they picked German or I probably would have learned Norwegian instead of German and where would I be now? So, anyway, I can say that I am Sioux, Norwegian, German and English."

"Hey that's nothing," Olsen said. "I'm Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, English and French!"

Hogan chuckled as he sipped his tea. "And I'm Irish, German, and Portuguese."

Frustrated, LeBeau snapped. "So you Americans are the League of Nations! What has that to do with me?"

Stepping in, Kinch calmly explained, "Think about it, LeBeau. Looking at Carter would you have guessed that he was all those different nationalities? You'd think English due to his last name and either Norwegian or German since he has blue eyes and is from North Dakota, but we never would've known that he was part Indian unless he told us."

"Exactly," Hogan agreed. "All you have to say is your grandfather signed on with a trading ship and brought home a girl from the Orient."

Colonel Hogan had a point, but he was not in the mood to acknowledge it. LeBeau instead turned to Kinch. "What about you? Are you going to tell me that you are descended from ten different African countries?"

"My ancestors were slaves, LeBeau. I don't know my heritage."

Great, now he was feeling guilty. At least he knew where he came from. He was French and proud of it. Though, if he were honest with himself, that was the root of his problem. For if Hitler had his way there would be no more France or French people. And to give away even a piece of that and claim that he was part Chinese, felt like a betrayal of his country and what he was fighting for.

The door to the barracks banged open as Schultz strolled inside. "Roll call! Everybody up…You are all already up. Why are you out of bed?"

In spite of his misgivings about his role, LeBeau pushed them to the side. He would pretend to be Chinese for France. He would fulfill his part of the plan. So, quickly grabbing a nearby broom, he started sweeping the floor.

Hogan looked over at the guard. "Tea?"

"No coffee?"

Sorry," Carter said as he handed over a cup. "LeBeau insisted on tea."

LeBeau knelt as he picked up the dustpan. Then, keeping eyes averted from his friends – he couldn't afford to break character by laughing at the absurdity of it all – he threw all of the dirt out the back window.

"LeBeau, what are you doing?" Schultz asked.

Closing the window, he turned and said, "Cleaning."

"I can see that. Why are you throwing the dirt out the window when you could just sweep it out the front door?"

"And sweep out all the good luck? No way!"

Hogan rolled his eyes. "He's been like this all night. He says he has to make everything perfect for the New Year.

"But the New Year was three weeks ago!" Schultz protested.

Kinch shrugged as he sipped from his mug. "We know that. But…never mind. You wouldn't believe us if we told you."

"Told me what?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Our LeBeau says that he is part Chinese and that their New Year's Eve is tomorrow."

"The Cockroach!" Schultz laughed. "You're right; I don't believe it."

"If you think that's unbelievable," Kinch countered. "He says that next we have to clean the whole camp to get rid of any evil spirits."

"Hah! You are really going clean this whole camp? I'll believe _that_ when I see it! Now out, all of you, out!"

Outside, Klink looked over the assembled prisoners with a disinterested gaze, but from the shake in his hands, it was clear that he was nervous about something, which meant they were going to be in for a speech. LeBeau blew on his hands before stuffing them into his armpits for warmth. He just hoped the Kommandant would keep it short; they still had a lot of work to do.

Once Schultz finished his report, Klink stepped forward to speak. "As I am sure you all know by now, we are expecting some very important guests this afternoon. Therefore, I expect you all to be on your best behavior.

LeBeau heard Newkirk bite back a retort beside him. If only Colonel Hogan hadn't specifically ordered them to behave during this roll call then they really would have been able to get Klink worked up.

"In two hours, I will personally inspect each barracks. The members of any barracks not up to my standards of cleanliness will lose all privileges for a month."

This time it was LeBeau who was holding back a quip. He cleaned Klink's office; he didn't consider the Kommandant's standards to be very high.

"Dismissed."

Colonel Hogan gestured for the men to gather around him. "Okay, you all know what we need to do. Get Kong to help and be quick about it. Klink's making his rounds earlier than we thought. Kinch, go around to the other barracks. Make sure they know that I'm ordering everyone to clean and be on their best behavior. We need Klink in a good mood today."

"Right, sir," Kinch said as they all scattered to carry out their orders.

Two hours later, LeBeau finished putting the last touch of red paint on the doorframe and stepped back to admire the handiwork. The windowsills and doorframe were painted red. Numerous red paper lanterns hung around the sides of the barracks. And on each side of the door were two vertical sheets of red paper embellished with Chinese calligraphy along with a third sheet above the door.

However, he was not the only person who was looking at the transformed barracks, as a voice cried out from behind him. "Hogan!"

That was the cue they had been waiting for. And Colonel Hogan was ready. "Hello, Kommandant, as you can see, the boys have been hard at work."

Klink was not impressed. "My orders were for them to clean, not redecorate."

"Now, Kommandant, I don't see what the problem is. The barracks have never been so clean."

After poking his head inside the barracks, which LeBeau knew that he would find spotless, Klink said, "The inside is adequate. But I want these…these…things removed and the barracks painted brown."

"We can't do that that, sir."

"I'm ordering you to start painting or I will throw every man in the cooler."

Hogan smiled. "That's against the Geneva Convention."

"There's nothing in the Geneva Convention that requires me to let you decorate this camp however you wish."

"LeBeau."

Stepping forward, LeBeau announced, "Herr Kommandant, all prisoners of war have the right to celebrate their religious and national holidays. These decorations are essential components for the upcoming New Year."

"The New Year was three weeks ago!" Klink protested.

"No, not that New Year, the Chinese New Year," LeBeau corrected. "Tomorrow is New Year's Eve."

"There are no Chinese prisoners in this camp."

"Actually, Kommandant, LeBeau here is part Chinese."

LeBeau nodded. "On my mother's side."

Klink laughed. "And you expect me to believe that LeBeau is Chinese? He's French!"

Hogan pulled Klink to side and whispered, "Kommandant, you know LeBeau is touchy about his height, but haven't you ever wondered why he's so short?"

"Just because he's short doesn't mean he's Chinese. And considering that he speaks French, cooks French food and was captured in a French uniform, I believe that this man is French, not Chinese!"

"I am French," LeBeau declared," but I'm also Chinese. My grandfather worked for a season on a sailing ship. While in China he fell in love with a local girl and brought her home with him. It is a beautiful love story if you would like to hear it. Especially, when told over a glass of wine."

Klink was getting more frustrated by the minute. "I don't care who your grandfather brought home. I want to know why you've painted part of the barracks red."

"The boys wanted to honor LeBeau's heritage," Hogan explained.

"And red is the color of good fortune and joy," LeBeau added.

"After all," Hogan piled on, "why do you think LeBeau always wears a red scarf?"

"Real lucky," Klink said in a deadpan voice, "for a man who ended up a prisoner of war."

Furious, LeBeau bit back a string of French curse words. That would not help his case at the moment.

Thankfully, Klink didn't notice as he moved on to another topic, pointing at the Chinese writing by the door. "If you are really Chinese then what does this say?"

Praying he didn't forget a thing, LeBeau explained, "These are chun lian or poetry." Then pointing to the paper on the right, he said, "This one reads: Winter gone mountain clear water sparkles." He moved his hand over to the left. "Spring comes bird sings flower fragrant. Then he gestured to the top. "Whole Earth Returns Spring."*

"So how about it, Kommandant," Hogan said, "we all could use a distraction. If you let us stay up past curfew tomorrow, we'll throw a wonderful party."

"Colonel Hogan, I don't care if LeBeau is French, Chinese, or a little green man from Mars, we are at war with China. I am not going to approve an enemy celebration while important visitors are in camp."

"But, Kommandant…" Hogan protested.

Klink stiffened into proper military bearing. "I will hear no more on this matter. I have made my decision. If this barracks is not back to normal in one hour, the whole barracks will spend the next two weeks in the cooler." Then without another word, he turned on his heel and marched towards Barracks Three.

Looking again at their hard work that was all for naught, LeBeau sighed. "Well, that didn't go so well."

* * *

><p>Hogan watched intently as three staff cars pulled into Stalag Thirteen. He had to put his earlier failure behind him and focus on the current problem: getting these two VIPs to England. He just hoped that after he got a good feel for their guests that he'd be able to come up with a new plan.<p>

Burkhalter stepped out of the first car and moved to open the door on the second. First, a muscular guard stepped out, followed by a heavily decorated Japanese officer and a small man who he guessed was the Major's aide.

Keeping one eye on the Japanese officer, Hogan then watched as Burkhalter helped a German civilian out of the third car – that had be to Dr. Reiter. The man was flanked by two SS guards, which just affirmed how important this man must be to the Nazi cause.

Well, Hogan wouldn't learn much standing on the sidelines. So with a swagger in his step, he approached the guests. "Welcome to the ole Stalag. Colonel Hogan, Senior POW officer. It isn't often one sees Japanese around these parts." He held out his hand.

Major Saito snorted and then spoke harshly in Japanese. His aide stepped forward and translated. "You let your prisoners wander around freely and harass their superiors? In my country this man would be shot!"

Burkhalter wasted no time in defusing the situation. "Guards, remove Colonel Hogan from my sight."

"Gee," Hogan hollered over his shoulder as two goons lead him away, "a guy tries to make a good first impression and this is the thanks he gets."

Once the guards had left him by the barracks, Newkirk provided his usual sunny commentary. "That Saito character sounds like a wonderful guy."

"No kidding; for a second there, I thought he would really shoot you," Carter added.

As the entourage moved towards Klink's office, LeBeau said, "Looks like we're going to have to listen in."

Hogan noticed that Kinch already had the coffee pot up and running as they gathered around and listened to the introductions and the usual blustering by Klink. Finally, Burkhalter changed the topic to the purpose of their visit. _"As we are here at the request of the Imperial Army, I will ask Major Saito to speak first."_

"_Thank you, General Burkhalter,"_ the Major said through his translator_. "My people are eager to work with Germany to achieve an important victory against our mutual enemy: the United States of America. For, as you are well aware, the American people have no idea what war is. They send their soldiers to attack our women and children while their families are safe at home. It is past time for them to be humbled by the wrath of our superior military might."_

"_The Führer agrees," _Burkhalter said. _"We are very interested in helping Japan carry out an attack against the American homeland."_

Klink could barely contain his excitement. _"If I may say so, Major, this is a brilliant plan and I am honored…"_

Meanwhile, Burkhalter could barely contain his disdain for his fellow officer. _"You haven't heard it yet."_

"_Yes, General, but I am sure that it will be brilliant."_

"_Shut up, Klink, or I will remove you from this room."_

Hogan did not fail to notice that Saito's aide didn't bother to translate that exchange; the man had acquired a good feel for their Kommandant already.

"_Major, if you could provide a brief overview of the plan for Dr. Reiter."_

"_My pleasure. We have learned that there are strong winds that flow from Japan to the Western United States. Our scientists have figured out that it is possible to use these winds to send balloons across the ocean to America. The plan is to use fire balloons to bomb the American West Coast."_

"_Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" _

"_Klink!"_

Reiter spoke, _"Sounds ingenious, Major. But where do I come in?"_

"_We will not be able to control where the fire balloons land so our strikes will be imprecise. There are those of us who believe that replacing the bombs with chemical weapons will produce a more efficient and deadlier result."_

Hogan gripped the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. He didn't dare react. Not yet. He couldn't afford to miss a single word.

"_Chemical weapons," _Klink squeaked, his voice soft.

Burkhalter had clearly reached his limit. _"Klink, you're dismissed."_

There was silence as they listened to a door open and close. Contrary to his usual behavior, Klink had decided to not protest.

"_My apologies, Major. Do go on."_

The Major continued his report and the POWs leaned forward to catch every word of the translation.

"_We currently do not possess the resources to achieve this. I have traveled to Germany to find a scientist skilled in chemical warfare to bring back to Japan and assist us in our research."_

Burkhalter continued, _"Dr. Reiter, the High Command selected you due to your experience and skill. We would like you to take the next couple of days to discuss the project with Major Saito. If you feel that this idea shows promise, you will travel with him back to Japan."_

"_I am honored to have the faith of the High Command. I look forward to discussing the details in-depth with Major Saito."_

"_Excellent, now if you follow me, I will escort you to your quarters and show you the space we have set aside for your use."_

Hogan was shaking with rage as Kinch reached over to unplug the coffee pot. Major Saito hadn't been wrong. Most of the people back home had no idea what war was. But a large reason that he fought was to ensure that they would never learn. So to hear that the people back home were going to be targeted with the most horrific of weapons shook him to the core. But he had to remain strong. His men would be looking to him to come up with a solution to this mess.

"They can't do this!" Carter exclaimed. "They aren't allowed to do this, are they?"

"Somehow, I don't think they plan on asking," Newkirk replied.

"Oui, dirty pigs!"

"We have to stop these guys, sir," Kinch said.

"We will," Hogan stated with conviction.

"But how, sir?" Carter asked.

How, indeed! To get both Reiter and Saito, they would need a distraction – a big one – and the only distraction big enough that Hogan could think of on such short notice was the one he had already tried to implement. He was going to have to put his original plan back into play. "At the Chinese New Year's Eve Party tomorrow night."

LeBeau looked skeptical. "How are we going to convince Klink to change his mind?"

"I'll talk to him tonight and this time I won't give him a chance to say no."

He couldn't afford to fail. The lives of his countrymen were at stake.

* * *

><p>Exiled to a couch in his own living room while more important men slept in comfortable beds, Klink was unable to find rest. Though he would be lying to himself if he claimed that his sleeping arrangements were the cause of his restlessness.<p>

Walking over to the wall, his hands trembled as he reached for the decanter. Pouring out a finger of schnapps, he quickly downed the glass. The burn from the alcohol hadn't subsided before he poured himself another. He knew that he should be doing something, but the weight on his conscience was just too great for him to face sober. For he had no illusions about the plans Reiter and Saito had discussed after he had been dismissed.

He should just follow orders. Be a good little soldier. Not think about it. He should just tell himself that he really didn't know what was going on. That he wasn't responsible for the decisions of his countrymen. But the problem was that he had served in the last war. He had seen the effect of chemical weapons on the men in the trenches. He knew too much to convince himself that he understood nothing. For he realized that if this plan succeeded, some of the war's ugliest weapons would not be used against soldiers and military targets, but against civilians – innocent men, women and children. And that he could not ignore.

Klink considered himself to be an honorable man. He followed all the rules of civilized warfare. For all of Hogan's complaints about the Geneva Convention, he followed it to the letter – at least, better than most of his colleagues. And did his record suffer for it? No! His record stood for itself – not a single escape! He had proved that a competent officer could be humane while maintaining control and discipline over the enemy.

But what was a lowly prison camp Kommandant to do? He couldn't work against his own country. Germany couldn't afford to lose another war. But neither could he sit back and watch while an unthinkable horror was unleashed upon the world.

Klink reached for the decanter when an all too familiar voice interpreted his thoughts. "Hitting the schnapps a little early tonight, Kommandant?"

Klink gritted his teeth in annoyance. He was facing a moral crisis. The last thing he needed was the inference of the meddling American officer. "It's none of your business, Colonel Hogan."

"True," Hogan said while deftly removing the schnapps from his sight. "Why should I care if you're too drunk to stop Saito and Reiter from taking over your command? One enemy is no different from another."

Hogan hit a nerve. Klink gritted his teeth as he shot back, "You would like to be rid of me. Escape. Well, that won't work. I am in control of this camp."

Hogan looked at him critically. "I can see that, sir. Your claim on your couch looks very secure."

Klink sighed. He hated how the American seemed to know him better than he knew himself. "Colonel Hogan, why are you here?"

"I want you to reconsider allowing us to celebrate the Chinese New Year tomorrow night."

Klink didn't hesitate. "No."

"Why not, Kommandant? It just a party. No harm in letting us have a little fun; plus it will let us all take our minds off the war for an evening."

Was Hogan mad? He surely didn't think Klink would give him permission with Saito and Reiter in camp. He couldn't risk it, not with all the unexplainable happenings that tended to occur with too much regularity in his camp. "Strange occurrences happen at your parties. Things that are very difficult to explain to Berlin."

Hogan smirked. "Are you sure that you wouldn't mind if some strange things happened to your guests? After all, how many of your problems have been solved by unexplainable occurrences in this camp?"

Klink didn't want to answer that question. He couldn't afford to connect Hogan to those tanks disappearing and staff cars blowing up among numerous other incidents. So he did the only thing he could think of; he evaded the question. "I suspect that most of those problems were only caused by your meddling."

It was Hogan's turn to switch gears as he said, "I'm not asking you to betray your country, Kommandant. I'm just asking for you to let us throw a party. Let LeBeau celebrate the Chinese New Year. Let strange events that may or may not happen, happen. After all, who doesn't like a fireworks display?"

It was a good thing that Hogan had taken away his schnapps or he would have gotten a mouthful right in the face. "Fireworks! Are you mad? We can't shoot off fireworks in the middle of a war!"

Hogan shrugged. "Firecrackers then. You'll get us some. Of course, LeBeau will handle the meal. And the Glee Club is quite keen to lead the dragon dance." Then Hogan walked over to the door. "The boys will be thrilled to hear we have your permission. Goodnight, Kommandant."

As Hogan left his quarters, Klink was stuck trying to figure out what had just happened. He hadn't really given permission for the prisoners to hold their party, had he? Rubbing his head, he decided that he needed another drink, but his decanter full of schnapps was nowhere to be found. _Hogan_!

Klink stormed over to the telephone. He would show that interfering arrogant American not to mess with him! When the guard at the gate picked up, Klink ordered him to have Schultz report to his quarters at once.

The gall of that man! Asking him to give permission for an event that would allow Hogan to do… do… something! While the American had clearly chosen his words carefully, there was no denying what was left unspoken. Klink was no fool; if he allowed this party to happen, something would happen to Saito and Reiter. Most likely, something that would cause a major setback to – if not end – their plans to use chemical weapons in this war.

Klink froze, and for the first time since the American's unwanted visit, he began to look past his anger. Hogan was offering him a way out. The question was - did he dare take it?

A knock at the door signaled Schultz's arrival and the guard let himself into the room. "Herr Kommandant, you sent for me?"

Time was up. He had to make a decision. And in the end, there was only one decision he could make. "Schultz, I need you to go into town tomorrow and buy some firecrackers for the party."

"Firecrackers? Party?"

"Yes. I've decided to reward the prisoners for helping to clean up the camp. Speak with Colonel Hogan. He'll tell you how many we need."

A look flashed across the guard's face indicating that he believed that his CO was being tricked by a certain American officer. But, as usual, he kept his thoughts to himself. "Certainly, Herr Kommandant. Is that all?"

"Dismissed."

As Klink watched Schultz turn to leave, he couldn't help but wonder if he had just turned his back on his country. No, he decided; his actions – or inactions – they wouldn't cost Germany the war. He could and would still fight to achieve German victory. He just didn't want that victory tainted by shame. It couldn't be treason to protect Germany's honor, could it?

God help him; he had no other choice.

* * *

><p>* The poem comes from the website China Page. To find it, search "china page chun lian"<p>

Historical Note: The Japanese launched over 9,000 fire balloons into the North Pacific jet stream and let the winds carry them to North America. The remains of over three hundred were found in the western United States, Canada and Mexico as far east as the outskirts of Detroit, MI. A balloon could cross the ocean in three days and the hope was that when they landed they would explode and kill people, destroy buildings and start forest fires. The campaign began in Nov. '44 and was abandoned in April '45.

The campaign was a failure. The balloons mostly landed in the middle of nowhere or the ocean, failed to explode, or, since the campaign occurred over the winter, when they did blow up the forests were too wet to cause forest fires. The American people were confused by the balloons (a bunch of cowboys used a balloon they found as a hay tarp), the military was busy freaking out (the USAAF and the RCAF managed to shoot down about twenty of them) and the Office of Censorship banned all mention of the fire balloons in the press. However, one balloon did manage to carry out a lethal attack. A group of kids on a church picnic discovered a fire balloon in southern Oregon. While they were investigating, the bomb exploded killing five children and a pregnant woman. These were the only deaths to occur in the continental United States as a result of enemy action during WWII.

However, while the fire balloons were mostly ineffectual, the US military feared that they could be modified to carry out biological warfare.

Source: Wikipedia


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Monkey See, Monkey Do **

Having survived one war and now being involved in his second, Schultz was used to carrying out strange and unusual orders. However, he was not too fond of the idea of giving his boys, who got into more trouble than any POWs had the right to, explosives. For all he knew, they were planning to use them to blow a hole in the fence and it wouldn't matter that Klink placed the order, he would be blamed.

Carter was immediately by his side when he got out of truck. "Did you get the firecrackers?"

"Yes. But why you needed so many boxes, I want to know." Schultz paused; did he really want to know?

"It's because we have so many prisoners. It wouldn't be fair if every man didn't get a chance to light one."

That sounded fair to Schultz, but he grew concerned when the enthusiastic American moved toward the back of the truck. "Get away from there! I have to deliver those to the Kommandant."

"Come on, can't I have a little peak?" Carter jutted out his lip and lowered his eyes in a very convincing pout.

"Not until I have reported to the Kommandant." He would remain strong.

"Please! You got them for us and Klink is going to tell you to deliver them to us so we can get them set up for the party. Why else would he have you ask us how many we needed? So why don't you just skip a step and give them to me now?"

Schultz felt his resolve loosening. Even though Klink was his CO, he preferred to avoid talking to him whenever possible. And if Klink was just going to tell him to give the firecrackers to the prisoners anyway… "Okay."

Carter looked a kid on Christmas morning as he ran around to the back. "Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Look at these beauties!"

Schultz didn't think the boxes were all that beautiful, but Carter's energy was infectious so he played along. "They are very nice looking boxes."

"No, not the boxes. The firecrackers." Carter reached into the box and pulled out a firecracker. "All you have to do is light this end and then…boom! Crack! Kablooey!"

Schultz took a very big step backwards. "You aren't going to blow anything up, are you?"

"Me? What makes you think I would do anything like that?"

That was a question which was better not to answer. "Where do you want the boxes?"

"Inside the barracks is fine. Let me help you carry some."

Schultz lifted two small boxes while Carter carried the third. They walked carefully into the barracks and set the boxes down on the table. Looking around, the guard couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. "Carter, where is everybody?"

"Getting things ready for the party."

His gut was telling him that he was missing something important but, since his policy was to know nothing, he ignored the feeling. He would leave quietly and not think about what Carter was going to do with his new toys.

Stepping back outside, Schultz was on his way to the Kommandantur when his nose caught wind of a wonderful smell. His stomach growled; someone was making sauerkraut. This called for an investigation.

It didn't take long for him to figure out that the aromas were coming the Kommandant's quarters. Opening the kitchen door, he spotted LeBeau working with some sort of dough. Now this was his favorite kind of investigation; he would have to find an excuse to stay for a while. One couldn't leave a prisoner alone with all these dangerous knives, for example. "What's going on in here?"

"Hi, Schultz, I'm making food for the party tonight."

_Yum!_ He was about to ask what was on the menu when LeBeau took out a rolling pin and began to roll out – pasta!

Thoroughly confused, Schultz asked, "The Chinese eat pasta?"

"No, we eat rice. But since we have no rice, I'm forced to make orzo instead."

That was an odd way of looking at things, but he had learned long ago not to question the cook. However a minute later, his resolve was sorely tested. For when he lifted up the lid of the closest pot, he noticed that a chicken was simmering in a strange sauce. After sneaking a quick taste, he had to say to something. "Cockroach, why is this chicken cooking in a beet horseradish sauce?"

"It's Kung Pao chicken; it goes on the rice and beet horseradish was the closest thing to soy sauce I could find."

Schultz held back a snort. Pasta as rice! Beet horseradish as soy sauce! This was beginning to be too much for even him to believe. And, if that wasn't bad enough, the dish LeBeau called wonton soup looked a lot like potato dumplings floating in chicken stock and then he discovered that the sauerkraut was masquerading as something called chow mein.

Now Schultz preferred to know nothing about almost everything in which the prisoners were involved, but he knew his food. His nose and his stomach did not lie. And it was becoming abundantly clear that LeBeau did not have the slightest idea of how to cook Chinese food. Which could only mean one thing: he was not really Chinese. "There's monkey business going on here."

LeBeau looked offended. "I'm cooking! How could I be involved in any monkey business?"

"This food. It's terrible."

"How do you know? You haven't tasted anything." LeBeau grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the sauerkraut. "Here, try the chow mein."

For the first time in his life, Schultz was hesitant to eat food that LeBeau had made. But the chef's history of making wonderful food won out over his suspicions and he took a bite. That was a decision that he immediately regretted for the sauerkraut had been smothered with a spicy mustard sauce that was causing his taste buds to scream and his stomach to churn. Forcing the spoonful down, Schultz immediately chugged down a glass of water.

"Too spicy?" LeBeau asked.

"Cockroach, this is the worst thing you have ever made."

The chef looked miffed. "I'm working with substandard ingredients."

Schultz was tempted to reply that the Frenchman made wonderful food all the time with even worse ingredients, but he remained silent. For if he proved that LeBeau wasn't Chinese then he would have to ask why LeBeau was pretending to be Chinese. And since that answer was clearly to host this party, Schultz knew it would mean that something was going to happen at this party. Something that he wanted to know nothing about.

"Come on, Schultz. Have a wonton. Don't you want to celebrate the Year of the Monkey?"

Schultz panicked. "Year of the Monkey!" he gasped. This was not good. He needed to get out of this kitchen and fast. So as he backed out of the room, he declared, "I see nothing! I know nothing! I taste nothing!"

* * *

><p>"Cut, cut, cut!" Kong shouted as he corrected his dancers. "Don't jerk the poles. It should be one smooth up and down motion. Listen to the drum; it will give you the beat."<p>

Holding back a sigh, the officer tried to keep his tone upbeat. He knew that he had been given the best dancers in Stalag Thirteen. But teaching ten men who had never even seen a dragon dance even the easiest of steps was difficult, to say the least. Thankfully, he would be the only person in camp who would know something was wrong as long as the dance looked natural.

Oh well, at least the dragon looked good. He had overseen a group of prisoners last night who had scoured the tunnels for materials and they had made a long skinny dragon out of cloth, paper and wood. It was bright and colorful and they had managed to attach poles for nine men to hold it high and manipulate it during the dance. His tenth dancer held the pearl of wisdom – a multicolored ball on a stick. Two musicians completed his ensemble: Colonel Hogan on kettle drums and Sergeant Baker on cymbals.

"Try the up and down movement again; Baker, start us, please."

At his order Baker hit his cymbals together and Hogan began a slow beat. This time, it took the men a couple of measures before the dragon's body was moving in what looked like waves. "Good, a little faster, Colonel."

The men adjusted to the new beat quickly which meant it was time to add the next layer of difficulty. "Okay, men, now let's see if you can do this while walking around. Now, the stick that Foster is holding is called the Pearl of Wisdom. Symbolically, the dance is the dragon chasing the pearl around to try to gain wisdom. For our purposes, consider Foster to be your conductor. He's going to tell you where to go and what moves to perform all based on how he moves the pearl. So whenever Baker sounds the cymbals, look at the pearl to know what move to do next."

If his grandfather had heard that description, he'd be rolling over in his grave. But he had to keep it simple; they didn't have the time to be thorough.

Gesturing for Foster to hand him the stick, Kong demonstrated. He jerked the pearl in an up and down motion. "Up and down." Then he moved the pearl so that it almost touched the ground on his right and then on his left. "Side to side. The head follows the pearl and the body follows the head."

Moving over to the musicians, he said, "Line up. Begin." At the sound of the cymbals, the dancers began to simply walk in a circle with no extra steps. Then at a gesture, Baker crashed the cymbals and Foster signaled for them to move the dragoon side to side. They continued this for a while with the cymbals crashing every minute or so. The dancers were getting the hang of the movements and, so far, had avoided tripping over each other's feet. The transitions were jerky, but that was to be expected. For the first time that day, Kong began to believe that they could pull this off.

"Cut. Good work, men, get some water."

Hogan grinned from behind his drums. "You're a good teacher, Lieutenant."

"Well, sir, they haven't gotten to the difficult part yet."

The door to the rec hall burst open and Kong hastily looked away as a rather large guard entered the room. He hoped that he wasn't noticed. However, Hogan seemed unconcerned as he began to play a complicated beat on his drums.

"Colonel Hogan," the guard called.

The officer simply played louder.

"Colonel Hogan!"

"Oh, hi, Schultz." Hogan ceased drumming. "Come to watch our practice?"

Schultz looked up at the dragon and shuddered. "Colonel Hogan, there is monkey business going on around here."

"Monkey business? I'm insulted. Just because we are celebrating the Year of the Monkey doesn't mean we are involved in monkey business."

Schultz groaned. "I wish you wouldn't say that."

"What?" Baker asked. "Year of the Monkey?"

The guard shuddered again. "Colonel Hogan, after I delivered the firecrackers, I…"

"Carter has them?" Hogan asked.

"Yes."

"Good."

"As I was saying, after I delivered the firecrackers, I thought I smelled sauerkraut so I went to investigate."

"Naturally," Baker commented.

Schultz lowered his voice so that it carried a conspiratorial tone. "I found LeBeau in the Kommandant's kitchen _cooking."_

"Very suspicious, Schultz," Hogan agreed. "Are you sure you didn't inhale some of the gunpowder from the firecrackers?"

"Very funny. But something funny is going on, because the food I tasted was terrible. It was worse than Carter's cooking."

"That's what you get for sneaking a taste before a dish is finished."

"Colonel Hogan, I know that it is better for me not to say anything. But please promise that there will be no monkey business..." Schultz glanced over at Kong, who quickly ducked his head, but not fast enough. "What is this man doing here? There are no Chinese prisoners in this camp."

Kong froze. What should he do? He had just ruined the whole mission. Hogan, however, flashed him a reassuring smile before saying, "You mean other than LeBeau."

"I don't know if LeBeau is Chinese or not, but I do know that this man does not belong in this camp."

"I agree. That's why he's staying just long enough to teach us the dragon dance and then go home."

"No, no, no, no, no! There will be no escaping. I have to report him."

Kong almost jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Baker leaned over and whispered, "Don't worry, sir. They have this conversation all the time. Colonel Hogan always wins."

The officer tried to find comfort in the prisoner's words. But it didn't stop the fear that was building up inside him. Now that Hogan had promised him a trip back to England, he really didn't want to have to spend the rest of the war as a POW.

Hogan shrugged as if he considered this whole scene to be no big deal. "Then I hope you don't mind starting out the New Year by traveling on a train to the Russian Front."

Schultz groaned again, "Colonel Hogan."

Hogan leaned forward for the kill. "Because that's what will happen when the Kommandant realizes that the Lieutenant here snuck into camp on your watch and that you didn't even notice him for three whole days."

It was becoming clear that the guard was wishing that he were anywhere else but here. "He will be gone by tomorrow?"

"Promise."

Sighing, Schultz turned to leave, but all of them heard him murmur on the way out, "Why couldn't it have been the Year of the Rabbit?"

Kong let out the breath he hadn't realized that he had been holding as Hogan addressed his men, "Okay, boys, show time's over. Whenever you're ready, Lieutenant."

Standing straight, he followed the other officer's example and stuck to business. "Alright men, now that you've learned to perform in a circle, next we are going go to learn how to weave and unweave our dragon."

The first time he tried to take the men through the steps, they had barely started before the men and the dragon were lying in a tangled knot on the floor.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>Hogan zipped up his bomber jacket as he stepped outside the recreation hall. He immediately noticed the extra staff car parked in front of the Kommandantur and causally walked over to a group of men throwing around a baseball.<p>

"When did Burkhalter arrive?" he asked Greenberg as the POW bent down to pick up the dropped ball.

Greenberg threw the baseball back to Addison. "About a half hour ago. He's having dinner with Klink and our guests."

"Is LeBeau still in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

As the kitchen had a separate entrance, Hogan was able to avoid the guards when he entered the room. LeBeau looked up from pot he was stirring, brought a finger to his lips and then pointed to the door, which was cracked open.

Hogan nodded and then moved to listen in on the dinner party. Laughter filled his ears as Dr. Reiter was in the middle of telling a funny story from his university days. Guessing that the story would last for several more minutes, he whispered, "Klink made you cook?"

"What do you think? Said that since he was gracious enough to allow me the kitchen to cook for the party tonight, that the least I could do was to whip him up a simple meal for his guests. Four courses and he calls that simple."

Peeking through the crack, Hogan mused, "Odd, I don't see Schultz."

LeBeau huffed. "Schultz wouldn't know good food unless it contained sausage or potatoes."

Hogan decided to ignore that comment; he had a pretty good idea what it was about. The chef always took it personally when someone insulted his cooking abilities. "Who's the taste tester?"

"Langenscheidt."

That was good. If the guard spotted him in the kitchen, it was unlikely that he would mention it to Klink.

As LeBeau opened the oven, Hogan got whiff of a very familiar scent. "Are you making strudel?"

"Oui; it serves Schultz right."

He bit back a chuckle and instead refocused his attention on the conversation in the living room. Burkhalter was changing the subject. "Gentlemen, I hope that your time together has been fruitful. Doctor, have you made your decision?"

"I have," Reiter replied. "I am confident that the research behind the fire balloons is sound and that they show promise for chemical warfare. There are others who can carry on our work in the east. I will accompany Major Saito to Japan."

"Wonderful. The High Command will be very pleased to hear this." Burkhalter raised his glass. "To victory."

"To victory," the others echoed.

"When I return to town, I will arrange for you both to be picked up in the morning. We shall have you home in no time, Major," the General promised.

Hogan slowly backed away from the door. That was the information he needed to hear. They had to succeed tonight. They wouldn't get another chance. On his way out, LeBeau handed him a large tray of food to take back to the barracks and then turned back to his dessert.

The others were pleased to see the food. They had all feared that they would have to eat in the mess hall tonight. A dangerous prospect, to be sure. Since Kinch was missing, Hogan decided to skip the meal – he would eat at the party tonight – and descended into the tunnels to find his XO.

Unsurprisingly, Kinch was sitting by the radio. Hogan placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "What have I missed?"

"The Underground is sending the Three Little Pigs to escort our captives. The costumes are ready for tonight. So are the props you ordered from the metal shop, though I had to order them to stop testing them; they were having a little too much fun. Also, I've been in contact back and forth with London most of the day."

"Information on Saito?"

"He's part of a top secret Imperial Army research facility. They want him badly. Our intelligence is flying agents over to meet him in England and escort him to the States."

"They're concerned?"

Kinch nodded. "Very. London's sending a plane at 0100 to pick up Kong and our packages."

"Good. Try to get some shuteye. Show time is in a couple of hours."

"You too, sir."

Hogan waved to acknowledge the response as he walked away. He had several other things he needed to check on first. Besides, he knew that there would be no sleep for him. Not until Saito and Reiter were on their way to England and no longer threatening the country he loved.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: More Fun than a Barrel of Monkeys**

"I must say, Colonel Hogan, this is a most unusual party."

Considering that Klink could be referring to the dozens of red paper lanterns hung all over camp, the surprisingly competitive mahjong tournament or the fact that LeBeau was dressed in a bright red and gold robe and was seated upon a gold painted chair as he watched the festivities, Hogan asked, "How so, Kommandant?"

"Schultz isn't at the buffet."

Hogan chuckled. He had to admit that Klink had a point. Schultz was definitely acting odd. He had taken up a guard post near the front gates, as far away from the buffet as possible, and had not snuck away once to grab a plate of his own. "I guess he doesn't like Chinese food. Oh, and before I forget, a gift from the boys," Hogan said as he quickly changed the subject and handed Klink a red envelope. "LeBeau says that it's traditional."

"Why you shouldn't have!" Klink was actually blushing as he opened his gift, but his expression quickly changed when he saw what was inside. "American money!"

"You'll need it after we win the war," Hogan teased.

"Humph!"

Hogan couldn't help it, baiting Klink was too easy. Besides, in spite of their temporary alliance, he still needed to keep the German officer off balance. He couldn't afford for him to dwell too long on some of the strange happenings that he had planned for this night.

"Shall we eat, sir?" he suggested.

Klink agreed and the two officers made their way over to the buffet table and filled their plates. Now, Hogan had tried Chinese food before and it was clear that LeBeau had tried to make the dishes look as much like Kong's descriptions as possible, even though their ingredients were clearly German. To an ignorant eye, the dishes all looked foreign enough that one could believe that they were Chinese. Unfortunately, since he knew better, Hogan simply hoped that they tasted better than they looked. But when he brought the first bit of chow mein to his mouth he entered into an immediate battle with his gag reflex. With a strong will, he forced himself to swallow.

"Tastes strange," Klink commented. "Not anything I'd normally eat, but it's not that bad."

Hogan bit his lip to keep his jaw from dropping. Klink's tolerance for LeBeau's Chinese dishes was a New Year's miracle. Unfortunately, that meant that he was going to have to keep eating his meal with a smile on his face.

By the time he choked down a third of his plate, Hogan was starting to feel queasy, his stomach was promising him that he would regret this in the morning. Though, thankfully, none of the other dishes – still awful tasting dishes – were as vomit-inducing as the chow mein. In hindsight, he realized that he should have expected this. Schultz, for all his failings as a prison guard, knew his food. And the guard's refusal to eat should have warned him that the food was far from palatable.

So as Klink watched, Hogan ate another forkful of chow mein. The things he did for his country.

* * *

><p>Keeping one eye on his watch and other on the emergency exit, Kinch waited for the Three Little Pigs to arrive. The stump opened right on time and Kinch observed three men climbing down the ladder. As he stepped forward to greet them, he couldn't help but notice that they were younger and in better shape than most of the German civilians with whom he usually interacted. He wondered if they were deserters, but he would never ask.<p>

The man in the lead smiled when he saw Kinch. "Always a pleasure to meet one of Papa's Bears men."

"The same," Kinch replied as he shook the offered hand. "Do I just call you Pig One, Two and Three?"

The men laughed. And the one in middle said, "No, I'm Speck." Pointing to the man who shook Kinch's hand, he added, "He's Wammerl and behind me is Bratwurst."

Bratwurst grinned. "Since we know Papa Bear and Mama Bear and you're too tall to be named Baby Bear, does that mean we should call you Grizzly?"

Kinch stroked his mustache. "You know, I might just have to suggest that to my CO."

After telling the Three Little Pigs to make themselves comfortable in some chairs by the radio, Kinch made his way to the wardrobe room. Carter and Olsen were busy changing into Gestapo uniforms while Kong and Newkirk changed into something much more fun. Or at least Carter thought so. "I don't see why I couldn't be a ninja," he protested as he fastened on his swastika pin.

Kinch smiled. "But you make such a good Nazi."

"You know," Carter said with a wink, "I would be insulted if that wasn't true."

Kinch appreciated his friend's attempt to break the tension and shot him a friendly grin before looking over the two ninjas. Newkirk and Kong were dressed in all black with hoods over their heads with only a slit that showed their eyes. They just needed one more thing for their costumes to be complete. Handing over two weapons, Kinch thoroughly enjoyed watching the gleam in Newkirk's eyes as he pulled a thin curved blade out of its sheath.

"They get swords!" Carter exclaimed.

"Katanas," Kong corrected as he drew his own.

"They're fake," Kinch clarified before anyone got any crazy ideas. "They look real enough but the edge is dull." Glancing at his watch, he ordered, "Places; the dragon dance starts in ten minutes."

Kong slid his katana back in its sheath and slung it over his shoulder so that the weapon lay on his back for an overhand draw. "Ready."

Newkirk, Carter and Olsen also nodded their assent and the latter two headed down the tunnels that led to Klink's quarters while Kinch watched Newkirk lead Kong down the branch that led to Barracks Ten.

Everyone was where they needed to be. It was time for the show to begin.

* * *

><p>In spite of all of his earlier misgivings, LeBeau had to admit that he was having a blast. He was the center of his party and it didn't hurt that he was dressed in a red robe and was seated in a golden chair that he thought of as his throne. Someone else was serving the food he had spent the whole day cooking and while he had no idea if the dishes tasted anything like they should, he had made sure that the combination of flavors would be unusual enough to taste foreign.<p>

Knowing that it was getting close to midnight, he kept one eye on the door to Barracks Two, even as he smiled and talked with those who approached to wish him a happy new year. Suddenly, Kinch appeared in the doorway which was his signal to start.

"Xīnnián kuàilè!" LeBeau shouted as he stood up from his chair. "Happy New Year! Thank you all for coming to my party and thank you to Kommandant Klink for letting us celebrate. May you all have a very prosperous Year of the Monkey. Now, while we wait for midnight, please enjoy my favorite New Year's tradition: the dragon dance!"

During the speech, Hogan had settled in behind the drums while Baker took up the cymbals. When the cymbals rang out loud and clear, LeBeau settled back into his chair and watched as the doors to the rec hall opened and the dancers marched out into the compound to the beat of the drums. He had no idea what to expect and was eager to see how the POWs would manipulate the long homemade dragon.

Foster, holding up a ball on a stick, led the nine men holding the dragon in a roundabout route that let the men gathered in the compound get a good view of the dragon. It was clear to LeBeau that they were deliberately taking their time to get into position, buying time for the men in the tunnels to carry out their tasks. Then when Baker hit the cymbals together, the dancers moved to the center of the compound and wrapped the dragon around the ball that was held high. The music, prisoners and guards all grew silent in anticipation. Every eye in the camp – prisoner and guard – was on the dragon.

Then, with another clash of the cymbals and loud drumming, the dance began.

* * *

><p>Carter pushed aside the furnace entrance into Klink's quarters ever so slightly so that Olsen and he would not miss the signal to begin. Stepping back, Carter straightened and let himself fall into character. He was Gestapo; he had no care for anyone he deemed lesser than himself, he was efficient and brutal in eliminating threats to the Third Reich. He would be arrogant and sure of his own righteousness. He was in control.<p>

When the cymbals clashed, Olsen sprang into action. He pushed the furnace open all the way and was on the guard standing in front of Klink's bedroom before the man realized he was there. As Carter calmly climbed out of the tunnel, the guard was already on the floor and Olsen was holding an empty syringe in his hand.

Stepping over the unconscious body as if it weren't there, Carter nodded for Olsen to bust open the door. Stepping into the room, Saito started screaming something in Japanese and his aide rose, his hands in fists. "What is the meaning of this?"

"The Major is under arrest," Carter said with a disinterested air.

After translating for his boss, the aide replied, "Arrest! We traveled to Germany in good faith. How can he be under arrest?"

"For plotting against the Führer."

"Preposterous."

Carter cocked his head to side. "You doubt the word of the Gestapo?"

Whatever the aide had been planning to say next, he was stopped as Olsen hit the man in the head with the butt of his gun and the Japanese man dropped to the ground unconscious.

The Japanese Major was shouting, but no one would be able to hear him over the sounds of the party. In a few seconds, it was over as Carter knocked him out with a sedative. Looking at Saito on the ground, Carter let himself break character. "Glad that worked."

"Yeah," Olsen replied. "Help me tie this guy up."

They tied cloth around the Japanese aide's wrists and ankles. They were careful that the bonds weren't too tight. They wanted him to break free, but they couldn't afford for it to happen too early. Then Olsen grabbed Saito's shoulders and Carter lifted the ankles and they carried their prisoner to the tunnels where Kinch and the Three Little Pigs were waiting.

* * *

><p>Newkirk had to admit that he liked the feel of a sword on his back, even though it was a fake sword. And while this may have been the craziest of a long list of crazy disguises he had worn while stationed at Stalag Thirteen, it was also quickly becoming one of his favorites. At least he was dressed in proper black, which made sneaking around a lot easier.<p>

As there was no tunnel access to the guest hut, his team had to take more chances. They waited for the dragon to march out before they approached the hut. A young British POW approached them as they reached the door. "The Doctor and one guard are in the bedroom. The second guard is in the front room."

"Thanks," Newkirk whispered. Taking out his lock picks, he carefully unlocked the front door. Then he drew his sword in his right hand and a syringe in his left. At Newkirk's nod, Kong opened the door and the English ninja rushed inside. "Hiyah! Newkirk screamed as he ran at the stunned guard. The man started to draw his gun, but he was too late. The POW plunged the needle into his thigh and the SS man was out in seconds.

One down, one more to go.

Newkirk glanced over at the Lieutenant. He would need his help with the second part. He hoped that the man was up to this. This time he'd have to let the officer go first.

Thankfully, Newkirk heard no sounds of movement in the bedroom. The sounds of the party where providing the needed cover. So once Kong was in position, he pushed open the second door and the Chinese officer ran into the room shouting a string of phrases in Chinese that sounded threatening to the Englishman's ears.

Newkirk was right behind Kong and the guard raised his hands when the ninja held his sword parallel to the shocked guard's throat. The POW first swiped the SS man's gun and then turned his sword around and hit the guard in the temple with the hilt. The guard dropped and Dr. Reiter had retreated into a corner where he pleaded in German for the ninjas to spare his life. Figuring that ninjas wouldn't know German, Newkirk just smiled under his mask as he pulled out another syringe.

Less than a minute later, Reiter was being carried back to the tunnels by the boys in Barracks Ten, the unconscious guard was bound and the two ninjas had disappeared back into the night.

* * *

><p>For ten minutes, Hogan didn't worry about the camp, his men or their mission. Instead his whole world was his drums and the piece he needed to play. He began to pick up the tempo as he hit the drum heads harder and harder with his mallets. Baker continually crashed his cymbals as they reached the climax, then they both were silent for two measures before ending the piece with three strong beats.<p>

It was over. Looking up, Hogan was happy to see that the dragon was still in once piece as prisoners and guards clapped and roared their approval.

"Colonel Hogan," Klink gushed, "that was marvelous, simply marvelous. I've never seen anything quite like it before."

"Thank LeBeau. He's the one who taught everyone."

"Oh, I will," Klink said as he ran off.

Glancing down at his watch, Hogan knew that they only had a few minutes to make sure everyone was in place for the next move. Midnight and the New Year were almost here. After making a quick round, Hogan rejoined the Kommandant and LeBeau on the platform. "Attention!" he called out. "Attention!"

The men grew quiet. They were ready.

"It's two minutes to midnight. Let's all welcome in the Year of the Monkey with a bang, shall we?"

All across camp, prisoners pulled out firecrackers and matches. It was hard to tell from this distance, but the American officer thought he saw Schultz cover his ears. "One minute!" Hogan watched the seconds on his watch tick down. "Twenty," he yelled.

The crowd took up the chant," Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…"

* * *

><p>Cigarette smoke filled the tunnel as Kong and the Three Little Pigs waited with their bound, gagged and sedated prisoners for the signal that it was safe to leave through the emergency exit. Kong looked over at Kinch who kept one eye on his watch and his hands on a periscope, of all things, wishing that he felt as calm as the POW looked.<p>

Kinch saw him watching and said, "You know, Lieutenant, I should've made a bet on getting you home by the New Year. I would have cleaned up."

"It's not too late. We aren't home yet."

The Sergeant smiled gently. "We haven't lost a plane yet. You'll be fine."

Kong exhaled smoke. He was a soldier. He could do this.

Suddenly, the sounds of little explosions filled the air and didn't stop. Kinch moved fast. He immediately raised the periscope, checked their surroundings and announced that the way was clear. Speck raced up the ladder first, pushed open the door and climbed out onto the ground above. He then reached down to grab the first body-sized bundle that Bratwurst and Wammerl passed up to him. In less than a minute, both prisoners and the last two Pigs were out.

"Happy New Year, Lieutenant," Kinch said as he gestured for the officer to join the others.

Kong nodded, dropped his cigarette and hurried up the ladder. He quickly closed the stump top and followed Wammerl into the woods. But once he was out of range of the spotlights he couldn't resist looking back at Stalag Thirteen. The spotlights weren't moving as their operators' attention was focused elsewhere – and he knew where as he could still hear explosions and see little bursts of light as the firecrackers continued to explode. He couldn't believe it. They had really pulled it off.

This would be a New Year that he would never forget.


	5. Chapter 5

_Xīnnián kuàilè!_ _Happy New Year! I hope you all have a very wonderful Year of the Goat! This story has been an absolute blast to write and I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed. Also, a huge thank you goes to honu59 for being an awesome beta._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: I'll Be a Monkey's Uncle<strong>

The noise had died down, the food was eaten, and the men were returning to their barracks. Checking his watch again, Hogan knew that Kong, the Three Pigs and their captives should have put some good distance between themselves and Stalag Thirteen by now. They would be meeting up with their plane soon.

Approaching the Kommandant to bid the man goodnight, Hogan noticed the door to the Kommandant's quarters swing open. This was it.

Saito's aide marched straight over to them. "This is outrageous!"

"Is there a problem?" Klink asked nervously. "The men were having a party. A little reward I gave them for good behavior. It cuts down on the escape attempts. I'm sorry if the noise kept you and the Major…"

"Traitor!"

"I assure you that this party was held in full accordance with the Geneva Convention."

Saito was beside himself. "The Geneva Convention tells you to party with your enemies while sticking a knife in the back of your allies!"

"No," Klink stuttered. "What?"

"We traveled to Germany in good faith and now you have betrayed us!"

"I don't understand."

"Major Saito was taken at gunpoint by two Gestapo officers."

Klink's face went white. "Get me Schultz," he ordered. When the large guard approached, the Kommandant asked, "Schultz, you have been at the gate. Have any Gestapo come in or out of this camp?"

"Gestapo?" the guard gasped. "No, Herr Kommandant, I have seen no Gestapo."

The Japanese man was shaking with anger. "Liar! You are covering for them."

Klink was visibly unnerved as he searched his mind for anything he could say to fix this situation. "Schultz, call General Burkhalter and tell him it is an emergency."

As Schultz quickly scurried away, a red-face SS man marched straight towards them. "Kommandant Klink!"

"Ah, soldier, how can I help you?"

"Dr. Reiter is missing."

"Missing!" Klink gasped. "But how?"

"I thought I should ask you, considering that two ninjas with swords broke into our quarters, knocked me out, drugged the other guard and kidnapped the doctor."

Hogan bit his tongue to stop from laughing at the look of total befuddlement that crossed Klink's face at that very moment. "Ninjas! Swords!" the German officer exclaimed.

"A likely story," the Japanese man said, now only inches away from the SS guard's face. "I might have believed it if you weren't part of the plot to kidnap Major Saito!"

"The ninjas spoke Japanese," the SS man shot back. "The only plotting I see here is the plotting from your government."

"There are no such things as ninjas! This is a plot by German cowards to steal our military secrets. I assure you that when the Emperor hears about this…"

"The Emperor! You just wait until the Führer finds out about how our former allies kidnapped one of our best scientists!"

"Gentlemen, please," Klink begged. "I'm sure that there is a reasonable explanation for all this. Why don't we wait until General Burkhalter arrives? I'm sure that he will sort it all out."

Klink's plea fell on deaf ears.

The Japanese aide snorted derisively. "You expect me to believe in children's stories while you deny the actions of your flesh and blood police force."

"You dishonor the Third Reich with your baseless accusations!"

"The German people know nothing of honor!

"Hogan, what did you do?"Klink whispered in desperation.

"Do, Kommandant? How could I have done anything? Besides, they've already told us who the guilty parties are: the Gestapo and the ninjas."

Klink looked like he wanted to protest but Hogan knew that he wouldn't. He got his strange occurrence, something that couldn't be traced back to them. But the screaming guests were threatening what little composure the Kommandant had. It was time for Hogan to take control of the situation. "I hate to interrupt a friendly conversation between allies, but your yelling is keeping my men up. Could you tone it down a little bit? We have roll call in a few hours."

Both men immediately stopped screaming and turned to face the American.

"The prisoners..." Saito's aide mused. "What do you know about Major Saito's disappearance?"

The SS man's thoughts went down that same path. "You prisoners are responsible for this. Klink, announce a roll call. I will turn this camp upside down until Dr. Reiter is found!"

"You mean _we_ will search until Major Saito is found."

Hogan gave no protest as his men were roused from their bunks and lined up in the compound while a search of the camp was organized. He knew they would turn up nothing and this would hopefully shift any suspicion away from his men. Though from the sounds he could hear, they were going to have their hands full cleaning the camp – again.

As the search wound down, the front gate opened and a staff car pulled in. Burkhalter did not look happy as he marched into the center of the compound. "Klink, what is going on here?"

Klink looked visibly relieved to see his superior officer. "General, I beg to report that Major Saito and Dr. Reiter are missing. The major's aide claims that the Gestapo arrested him while the doctor's guard says that they were attacked by ninjas. I ordered a roll call and my men searched the prisoners' barracks."

"Klink!" Burkhalter screamed. "Quit babbling and start speaking sense."

Hogan stepped forward. "Excuse me, General, but Kommandant Klink isn't lying. Your guests have been yelling about ninjas and the Gestapo. And the Major and the Doctor are missing." He smirked, thoroughly enjoying this moment. "Maybe they escaped together."

"No one ever escapes from Stalag Thirteen," Klink insisted.

"Shut up, Klink! I'm getting a headache. Besides, if these men were kidnapped under your nose then the only person escaping will be you – to the Russian Front!"

While Klink whimpered, Hogan cut in. "Excuse me, General, but I don't see how the Kommandant is responsible. Major Saito and Dr. Saito brought their own guards. They were the ones who failed to stop the kidnapping."

Burkhalter frowned and turned toward the search party which had finished and was returning to the center of the compound. They had been joined by the other guards whose sedatives had worn off; all of them looked like they were ready to kill each other. After a rather heated looking conversation, the guests commandeered some guards and trucks and then drove out of camp, presumably to search the woods. Hogan knew that they would have no better luck with that. According to his calculations, the plane had already come and gone.

After the search party had driven out of sight, Burkhalter shook his head and said, "This is a disaster."

Hogan smirked. "I don't know. Watching an alliance between two enemies fall apart looks pretty good from where I'm standing."

"Hogan!" Klink gasped.

Burkhalter sighed. "Don't encourage him. Now, let's go to your office and I will listen as you tell me exactly what caused this mess."

"I thought it was obvious," Hogan said before Klink could answer. "The Japanese and the SS betrayed each other. It appears that some people don't think your two empires will coexist peacefully after the war and want the fire balloon technology for their own side."

"That makes no sense. Reiter was going to Japan. They could have taken him then."

Hogan shrugged. "I didn't say that it made sense. But if I might be so bold as to say that it makes a good story for your report to Berlin."

In manipulating Burkhalter, Hogan operated under one very important assumption: that the General would do anything to save his own hide. Now that he had planted the suggestion, Hogan had no doubt which version would make it into the official reports. Because his explanation was only the explanation that cleared Burkhalter of any wrongdoing which, in turn, also cleared Klink.

"Hmm," Burkhalter mused. "You may very well be right. Klink, dismiss the prisoners or do you intend to make them stand out here all night?"

"Of course not, Herr General. I will get right on it, Herr General. Prisoners, dismissed!"

No one moved until Hogan turned around and said, "Alright, men, the party's over. Get to bed."

* * *

><p>LeBeau woke up and for a few frightful moments, he couldn't identify what was different about this day. He was still in Barracks Two, he was still a prisoner of war, but something was off. The sun was coming through the cracks in the window, its bright rays shining in his eyes and affecting his ability to think. He sat up. That was it; he was well rested. Klink had let them all sleep in.<p>

Moving carefully as to not wake anyone, LeBeau noticed that almost everyone was still in bed. Only Kinch's bunk was empty; the radioman must have gone into the tunnels. After putting the coffee pot on, he snuck away to the latrines. When he returned, Kinch was coming back up.

LeBeau smiled. "Good morning. Any news?"

"Kong and both packages arrived in London, safe and sound."

Well, at least the ridiculous notion of him being Chinese had paid off. Though, thankfully, he could drop the act and go back to being a proper Frenchman.

"Morning," Addison said as he got out of bed. Then he suddenly grabbed his stomach and sat down on his bunk.

Concerned, Kinch moved over to the POW. "Addison, are you feeling well? You don't look too good."

"No, my stomach hurts."

"Mine too," Foster moaned from across the room.

"I've got it as well," Greenberg added.

Kinch felt Addison's forehead. "You don't have a fever. It must have been something you ate."

LeBeau was a little miffed at that suggestion. The food last night had been unconventional, but there had been nothing wrong with it. So he decided that it was just best to change the subject. "The coffee's ready if anyone wants some."

"Did LeBeau make it?" Greenberg asked.

"Yes," Kinch replied.

"Throw it out."

"What?" LeBeau cried.

Baker's arms were clutched around his stomach. "You poisoned us with the food last night."

LeBeau was stunned as several other voices echoed their agreement. A quick glance around the room told him that not everyone was sick. "Kinch, Newkirk, Carter and Olsen look fine."

"I knew better than to eat _that_ food," Newkirk said.

"We were in the tunnels. We didn't get a chance to eat any Chinese food. So it had to have been the food," Carter reasoned.

LeBeau refused to back down. He was a professional chef; he knew what he was doing. "I ate the food and I feel fine."

"Lucky you," Foster muttered under his breath.

LeBeau begin to pull out the ingredients to make a hearty porridge. "I know what will make you all feel better: a nice delicious breakfast." As soon as the words left his mouth, he immediately ducked to avoid of a barrage of shoes, socks and other objects thrown in his direction. The ingratitude of some people! "See if I ever cook for you again!"

The door to Hogan's quarters swung open and the slightly green officer stepped out. "What is going on out here?"

"LeBeau is threatening to cook breakfast, sir," Newkirk said.

LeBeau shot his mate a dirty look; he never even tried the food! Who was he to say anything?

Hogan grimaced. "For once, the mess hall is sounding good."

LeBeau's jaw dropped. Not his CO, too! Thankfully, he was saved from having to further defend his pride by the arrival of Schultz.

"Late roll call today?" Hogan asked.

"Canceled," Schultz replied. "The big shot is sick. He has a bad tummy ache."

Hogan grimaced. "It had to be the chow mein."

The expression on Schultz's face looked like the one he probably used when correcting one of his children. "I told you it was terrible. I hope that you boys learned a very important lesson today and there will be no more monkey business from now on."

Newkirk grinned as he gave the guard a one-armed hug. "Sorry, Schultz, we can't do that."

"Yeah, it's the _Year_ of the Monkey," Carter clarified as he mimicked Newkirk's actions on the other side.

LeBeau smirked as he drove the final nail in the coffin. "And we're just getting started."

It spite of the pain that several of the POWs were experiencing, all of them joined in laughter as Schultz almost tripped over his own feet in a rush to get out of the barracks and as far away from any further potential monkey business as possible.

The Year of the Monkey was going to be a very good year indeed.


End file.
